


slowly

by sunflowerseed



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 20:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21087461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerseed/pseuds/sunflowerseed
Summary: Arthur takes his glass with a shrug and the door clicks shut behind him. Eames wants to kick himself because when has he ever been this man?The man who leaves questions unanswered and ignores whatever is inconvenient. The man who shows up with wine and something to say and leaves empty-handed with most everything unsaid.





	slowly

It’s half past 2 in Paris and Eames is awoken by a resounding crash from the room over. His curtains are drawn and the room is dark but there’s pale yellow light leaking under the door from the hallway. Eames stares at the strip of light as he’s getting his wits about him.

‘ Fuck.’ 

Eames shifts his gaze toward where Arthur’s voice has just come faintly from behind the wall they’ve been sharing. He’s only known the bloke for the length of this job but if there is trouble, Eames is relatively sure Arthur can handle it on his own. But just for good measure, he sits up in bed and squints his eyes as if that gives him the ability to hear any better. There’s the sound of scuffling and Eames can’t help rising to his feet. He approaches the wall and he hears the bed shift against it like something’s been dropped onto it. 

Arthur’s voice returns a moment later: ‘ Sur ton ventre.’

Eames sinks into the wingback along the wall and worries his chin. When he was a boy he used to have difficulty sleeping and as a last resort, his mother would sing him an old French school song. She’d take both his hands between hers, tu as deux mains, and she’d pat his feet, et deux pieds. She’d tickle her fingers down either arm, tu as deux jambes, and touch the tip of her finger to the tip of his nose, and un nez. She’d pull back the sheet and pull up his shirt, tu as ventre, and blew a raspberry on his stomach. 

So, as it were, Eames is well aware of the French word for “belly" as well as “on” and “your”.

They’re not all that loud in reality. Perhaps, if he hadn’t been woken by something being dropped in the first place he could’ve slept through it but now, every dampened breath and every stifled moan is practically a nail in Eames’ coffin. 

Another voice that is less familiar half whispers: ‘ Ah, doucement, doucement-’

Arthur mumbles something in response that Eames can’t make out and he suddenly decides that this is too perverted even for his liking. So he takes a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and has a smoke or three on the balcony before returning to bed in silence.

Mere hours later, he’s roused by his alarm and goes about getting ready for the day. As he’s about to work on his tie Arthur’s toilet flushes and he pauses to listen to footsteps round the bed. He hurries to the door in an impetuous attempt to catch them in the act and steps out into the hall with his tie limp in the palm of his hand but there’s no Arthur. Just a slim bloke with blond hair closing the door gently behind himself. He glances up when he hears Eames’ door click shut as well and smiles. ‘ Bon matin.’ 

He’s handsome, Eames thinks, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans that fit perfectly, much to Arthur’s liking he’s sure. Eames responds in kind before heading in the direction of the nearest exit. 

‘ Vous avez besoin d’aide avec ça?’ The bloke says coming to walk alongside Eames and gesture at his tie with a silly smile.

‘ Oh, no. Non, merci.’

He shrugs. ’ D’accord.’

They board the elevator in silence and Eames can’t help starring at the back of the bloke’s head. The tips of his ears are fresh pink and when they reach ground he glances over his shoulder to smile at Eames once more. ‘ Bonne journée.’

Eames tries to put the whole thing out of his mind as he walks to work with little success but once he’s got Dom prattling in his ear he doesn’t have room to think of much else. When Dom finally runs out of things to talk about he glances at his watch too tight on his wrist. ‘ Arthur said he’d be here for 9.’

Eames looks at his watch as well and it’s just barely five minutes past. ‘ Christ, you two and your bloody punctuality. Relax a minute why don’t-‘

‘ Well, apparently not us two because he said-’

The side door flies open then with perfect timing and Arthur strides into the room. ‘ Stop bitching.’ He says throwing his bag onto his desk. ‘ I was in here hours after all of you last night.’

At the end of the day, Eames chain-smokes around the corner from the storefront they’re working out of. When Arthur emerges he’s left his work bag inside and he’s staring at his phone. He starts off in the opposite direction of where they’re staying and Eames attempts to will himself in the direction of the hotel all to no avail. Eventually, Arthur falters in front of a bar 4 blocks east. Eames is quick to angle himself away, his heart beating wickedly in his chest. He pulls out his cigarettes before glancing over his shoulder to find-

‘ Eames, what the fuck are you doing?’ Arthur looks incredibly unimpressed.

Eames isn’t entirely sure why he followed him here in the first place so he has no idea what to say. ’ What are you doing here?’ He responds and regrets immediately.

Arthur’s eyes narrow. ‘ This is inappropriate. You need to leave.’

‘ Inappropriate? What’s inappropriate is me listening to you bugger some bloke-‘

‘ Arthur!’ Neither of them sees him before he appears at Arthur’s elbow. His cheeks flushed and his hair blown up in the wind. ‘ Désolé j'suis retard. My train was delayed.’ He kisses Arthur’s cheek and turns his attention to Eames.

Eames sees it register in his eyes almost immediately. ‘ Salut.’ He laughs and glances at Arthur who has a dreaded expression on his face.

‘ This is Eames.’ He chokes out. ‘ We work together.’

He holds out a hand to Eames. ‘ Maxime but call me Max.’ He says leaning in close to kiss Eames’ cheek. ‘ His room-’ Maxime says glancing at Arthur. ‘ -is next to yours. We met already.’ He turns back to Eames. ‘ You are joining us?’

Eames opens his mouth but Arthur speaks first. ‘ Eames was just leaving.’

Maxime makes a stink face and places a flippant hand on Arthur’s shoulder. ‘ D’accord, ma râleuse. You’re welcome to stay if you like.’

Eames gives Arthur one final look. 

‘ No, you two enjoy your night. It was nice meeting you.’ Eames says. ‘ Arthur, I’ll see you in the morning.’

As Eames is retreating he can hear Maxime still giving Arthur a gentle ribbing. ‘ T’es pas gentil.’ He says. ‘ Trop méchant.’

There’s not a single squeak through the night and Eames can be sure because he doesn’t sleep a wink. Arthur is, however, at work when Eames arrives half an hour late with a paper bag of croissants. 

‘ You’re late.’ He says and Eames decides to ignore him entirely.

He makes a valiant effort at focusing on his work but he’s distracted by the fact that he’s almost certain Arthur didn’t step foot into his room last night. Eames spares him a glance and realizes his shirt is a pale blue when he’d been in starched white yesterday. His eyes wander over the way the fabric folds at his elbows and the cuff that pools ever so slightly against his watch. Not his shirt clearly, Eames thinks before averting his gaze for fear of Arthur catching him. 

He lets the thought ruminate for a time, going back and forth between feeling contrite and upset. In the afternoon, he leaves without a word to any of them and sets up shop at a baccarat table in the 2nd arrondissement. And he’s never very well been one for western gambling culture but he punts most of the cash in his pocket and pours the rest of it down his throat. ‘ Thank you.’ He says accepting his fourth jack ginger.

He’s not the only bloke in the room spending his evening in such a manner but he can’t have been imagining the waitress has been giving him long pitiful looks. She spends a moment too long standing at his elbow before crouching back down to touch his arm. ‘ Go to her-’ Eames blinks at her and surely he must be hearing things but she smiles. ‘-and bring wine.’

She gives him a purposeful look before leaving and in turn, Eames gives the Japanese man sitting next to him the rest of his chips and leaves his drink undrank. He buys a bottle of crémant from the dépanneur and hails a cab. He only wonders whether or not Arthur’s even in his hotel room tonight when he steps into the elevator. And when a rotund man comes on from the 2nd floor Eames realizes Arthur may very well not be alone in his hotel room either. 

Arthur doesn’t seem all that surprised to find Eames at his door. He’s still in Maxime’s shirt (Eames has decided) but it’s undone at the neck and he’s barefoot. He ushers Eames in without either of them saying a word and the room is empty. Thank, Christ. Eames thinks. 

‘ Can I help you?’ Arthur says when Eames takes a seat in the wingback that mirrors Eames’ own. The same chair he sat in two nights ago to eavesdrop.

‘ I think I owe you an apology.’

Arthur takes pause then and Eames doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or pleased to find that he’s surprised to be receiving an apology from him at all. ‘ For?’ He’s baiting him now but Eames is happy to play along.

‘ For… following you the other night.

Arthur nods and comes forward to pry the bottle of wine from Eames’ fingers. ‘ Is this your peace offering?’

He serves them both a heavy pour and sits on the foot of his bed across from Eames. ‘ Maxime thinks you’re in love with me.’

Eames guffaws. ‘ I’ve just met you.’

Arthur shrugs. ‘ The French love romance. He says you look at me with hearts in your eyes.’

‘ Right-’ Eames glances at the wall above Arthur’s head and he thinks of the waitress but she wasn’t wrong. ‘- well I just think he’s threatened-‘

‘ He’s my ex so I’d hope not.’

Eames takes a pertinent sip.

‘ We’re just friends… sometimes a bit more if we’re both single and I’m in Paris.’

‘ Okay,’ Eames says for lack of understanding what else he could possibly say. They sit there in silence and Eames wonders if this was a mistake. They seem to have come to an impasse. Apology somewhat accepted? Arthur giving unnecessary explanations as to why he’s sleeping with people as if it’s any of Eames’ business. ‘ you don’t need to-’

‘ I think I do-’ Arthur says resting his wine glass against his thigh. ‘-otherwise what are you here for.’

Eames is dying to take a deep breath but he’s frozen, his breath coming in shallow puffs through thinly parted lips.

‘ I know you’re not in love with me, Eames. I’m not an idiot. You just want to fuck me and it’s no big deal unless you make it one.’

Eames’ heart nearly falls out of his arse and he’d thought Arthur was much more of a prude than this. ‘ I should go.’ Eames hears himself saying and suddenly he’s the prude of all people. ‘ Early morning and all that. Sorry to wake you.’ He goes to stand and Arthur mirrors him.

‘ Am I wrong?’ 

He knows he’s not and Eames can read all that on his face.

Eames blinks at him and clenches his teeth. ‘ I’ll see you in the morning.’

Arthur takes his glass with a shrug and the door clicks shut behind him. Eames wants to kick himself because when has he ever been this man? 

The man who leaves questions unanswered and ignores whatever is inconvenient. The man who shows up with wine and something to say and leaves empty-handed with most everything unsaid. His first day on the job he’d imagined how soft Arthur’s hands might be, if they were cold and if they’d been held anytime recently. Arthur opens the door with an unperturbed look and Eames can’t stop himself stumbling on his words.

‘ I’m not in love with you-‘ He blurts.

‘ Eames,-’ Arthur says leaning against the doorjamb but Eames raises a hand to stop him going on one of his spiels.

‘ -but I think I may be under threat.’

Eames sees something in Arthur change then. He takes a step back into the room and he loses the cocksure sling to his hips. ‘ …Do you want to come back in?’

He doesn’t spend the night but they do settle out on Arthur’s balcony and finish the bottle of wine over a pack of gitanes. Arthur’s hands are warmer than Eames expected but just as soft as he imagined. They linger in the doorway as Eames is leaving at 2 am and Arthur doesn’t seem to mind even when his eyes are drooping shut with exhaustion. ‘ You can stay.’ He says again practically holding himself up on the door handle and Eames wants to but he thinks he’s abused Arthur’s hospitality enough for one night.

When Eames says as much Arthur leans in closer still. ‘ Kiss me goodnight, then.’ He mumbles reaching out to rest his hand on Eames’ shoulder. ‘ I know you want to.’


End file.
